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Summary
“I bought handcuffs yesterday,” Eddie says, and takes another bite of his toast.
“Oh,” says Richie, because he is wildly unprepared for this conversation starting, segue-less, at 9am on a Saturday.
“They’re the safe ones,” Eddie says, as if that was the source of Richie’s confusion. “That you can get out of yourself. So I won’t die of starvation if you eat too much white bread and have a heart attack and collapse on top of me.”
“Well,” Richie says. “I certainly feel reassured.”
